


anagapesis

by rivernyx (orphan_account)



Series: you, me, the world (soulmate au) [2]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, And feels, Angst, I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good, Lots of Angst, M/M, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 13:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rivernyx
Summary: hongbin doesn't want a soulmate. hongbin doesn't need a soulmate. he already has wonshik.or: the aftermath, in hongbin's point of view.;sequel to I Can't Say;





	anagapesis

**Author's Note:**

> y'all wanted a sequeeel  
> you're getting a sequel  
> it only took like 83 years hahahaha but here it is fINALLY
> 
> im not very satisfied with this but like,,  
> i hope you enjoy~

Hongbin's smile falls when their eyes meet, black and white fading to something he can't quite identify. Something he doesn't know. Something that's a… color.

 He had only caught a glimpse of his eyes before he turns away with such force that it sends the other boy stumbling down onto the gravel. He refuses to look down where the stranger (his soulmate- the thought of it makes him feel sick, so sick) is sitting on the ground.

 Oh my God, he thinks.

 I just bumped into my soulmate, he thinks. He stares straight ahead, knees shaking and on the verge of going slack, and somehow he manages to stay upright.

 To say that Lee Hongbin was surprised is a bit of an understatement. He steps back, part amazed and part horrified, as his eyes jump everywhere to adjust to the almost blinding, almost headache-inducing rush of New Things all around him, and he can hear his heart beating in his ears.

 "No," he says to himself, torn between laughing and crying because what the fuck? "No fucking way," he says, hysterically. It's not color he's seeing. Right? Right?

 "Oh God," says the person he bumped into, looking just as lost as Hongbin is feeling right now, and Hongbin hates him all of a sudden. Hates how he has to deal with this. Hates how this stranger can pretty much just walk in and confirm all of his fears.

 "Oh God, indeed," Hongbin says. Please God, let this all be just a dream. Let this all be a terrible, terrible dream.

 Time has stopped. Hongbin breathes. He looks around him; kind of wants to laugh at this situation.

 They are two boys on the sidewalk, right next to a park, and he's standing while the other boy is sitting, and Hongbin's two bags of groceries have fallen down, contents spilling on the floor.

 And apparently they're soulmates.

 And Hongbin doesn't want a soulmate. Hongbin doesn't need a soulmate.

 He can't bring himself to look at the stranger yet again.

 This cannot be happening. Looking at all these new things makes his head hurt, makes his eyes prickle. He wants to crawl back to just a few minutes earlier and not let this happen at all. He wants to go back to the comfort of monochrome. He wants to run away to a world where soulmates don't exist.

 Out of politeness, he does help the fallen boy up. They don't look at each other. They don't talk. They don't walk away, too. They just stand there, very still.

 This is where human instinct comes into play.

 Because while Hongbin wants nothing more than to walk away and pretend this never happened, a part of him is craving to know. Yearning to know. Needing to know.

 Human biology, everyone.

 He wants to go home and forget about meeting his soulmate ever and wake up the next morning, pressed snugly against his boyfriend.

 He wants to wake up feeling like all of this is only a dream, wants to wake up believing that he's seeing color because of Wonshik. He wants to fool himself into thinking they're fated.

 "Let's just," he says, his voice cracking, "Let's just forget this, yeah?" There's a note of desperation in his voice. He's frantic and he's despaired.

 The other boy manages to smile, as Hongbin can see from the corner of his eye.

 "Yeah," the boy agrees. His voice cracks as well. He looks as if he's about to cry. Does he have someone else, too? Does he not want a soulmate, too? In that case, Hongbin feels for him.

 He doesn't say this, though. He doesn't want to know anything about him.

 Things are easier to erase when the damage is still pretty minimal.

 Hongbin instead forces on a small flash of his teeth and bows at him politely before picking his groceries back up and turning away, with his heart in his throat and a heavy, heavy rock lounged deep inside his stomach, weighing him down.

 "Yeah, um," he says, and his voice is so small and weak that even he barely hears it, and he can't quite believe that it's really his voice. "I'll be going now."

 He walks back home. He doesn't ask for his soulmate's name because he wants, needs to let him stay a nameless face. He can't have his name haunting him for the rest of his life.

 Because if Hongbin does learn his soulmate's name- maybe it'll never ever leave his mind.

 He doesn't stop walking and he doesn't look back, even when something in his blood is kicking and screaming, begging him to run back and ask for his soulmate's name.

 Fucking biology, honestly.

 

 

 Once upon a time, Wonshik had asked him what would happen if they found their soulmates.

 Both of them: lying on their stomachs on the floor, Wonshik sleeping over under the guise of homework, or just hanging out.

 They've been best friends for several years, after all, and they aren't soulmates, and Hongbin's parents absolutely love Wonshik. This is safe. This is not suspicious. Their parents would never suspect that Wonshik comes over for a reason much more intimate than mere "bro time."

 At least, not until they move out; get away from this place.

 So Wonshik reaches over Hongbin's shoulder to grab a slice of pizza. Hongbin is busy surfing the web, looking up theories and researching about humans- to be specific, soulmates, because the subject has been interesting him a bit lately. He wants to know if the two of them have any hope.

 Then Wonshik says, as conversationally as he can, "What would we do, Hongbin?"

 Hongbin shrugs, in the middle of reading a webpage- some article about the steadily rising rates in non-soulmate relationships. There will be a lot of angry comments, he predicts.

 Then he pauses for a moment, turning to look at Wonshik and sees the latter staring very intently at him, and he gets the tiniest bit nervous and transfers his attention back to the laptop.

 "What is it, Shikkie?" he asks, eyes trained on the screen, "What would we do if what?"

 "If we find our soulmate,"

 Hongbin stills mid-article, tongue flicking out to lick his lips in uncertainty and a little bit of fear, and admits, "I don't know,"

 He doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to acknowledge the possibility, doesn't want to talk about it to Wonshik of all people. He'd never prepared himself either.

 So instead, Hongbin reaches out to put his hand atop Wonshik's, closing his laptop, sitting up with his legs crossed. He looks him in the eye and says, "But I love you, Wonshik,"

 Wonshik avoids his eyes, "Scientists say it's human psychology, you know," he says, and Hongbin wants to hold him close, "They say you can't help it. You'll get attracted. You'll get attached. You'll fall in love."

 Hongbin is about to open his mouth to retort, but Wonshik looks at him and Hongbin shuts up, lets him continue.

"It's like your life is missing this one big chunk and meeting The One gives that piece back to you and makes it all complete,"

 Hongbin makes a face. "Is that what people say these days? Why is everyone so sappy?" he mutters with a small grimace.

 "That's not the point, Kong-ah,"

 Hongbin sighs and looks at Wonshik, cups his boyfriend's face, both of his hands on Wonshik's cheeks.

 "I'm just afraid of losing you," Wonshik says. He's got a layer of gloss coating his droopy eyes, and Hongbin wonders if he has too much sincerity to the point where it's overflowing, rolling down his rose-blushed cheeks even as he tries to hold them back.

 "Shh, Shikkie," Hongbin whispers softly, thumb wiping off the tears on Wonshik's face. "You won't lose me. Okay? Now, you can cry,"

 Wonshik sniffles and blinks back more tears but it only results in making more fall from his eyes.

 

*

 

 Hongbin has never cared for soulmates, not really. He's perfectly content the way his life is, even if it means an eternity of living in a black and white world, hidden from the public's scrutinizing eyes in a society that thinks people who don't want soulmates are freaks; disgusting mistakes.

 Or well, he was. But he hates his life now, hates the way the colors mock him as he runs and runs and runs back to his and Wonshik's shared apartment, everything he's seeing blurred out from the tears gathering in his eyes and God, what a shitty life to be living right now.

 He gets back home, slumping against the door, trying to catch his breath, before pushing it open and stumbling inside.

 There's an audible thump when he falls to the floor, dropping to his knees, plastic bags making a noise when they land on the carpet- which isn't a somewhat dark shade of gray anymore.

 The curtains and ceiling aren't white. The shelves and walls and cabinets and chests aren't monochrome. The shirt Wonshik is wearing is a glaring color that he'd seen on that boy's shirt as well.

 Can the floor please swallow him?

 Wonshik doesn't hear him, has his back to Hongbin and is sitting on his not-gray swivel chair on the other side of the room, headphones in, doing something with his laptop.

 Hongbin stands up. His knees burn from the carpet. He goes to the kitchen and puts away the groceries (they have colors that Hongbin wants to unsee, wants to cry at, wants to fade into grayscale.) They have labels on the colors, too. Red. Blue. Orange. Green.  And more. More words that he doesn't want to see in his life ever again. More words that were meaningless to him just until just minutes ago.

 He wants to throw it all out, wants to trash the entire place, wants to go to the art store and buy all their black and white and gray paints and paint the world with black and white.

 Hongbin savagely wipes at his tears until his eyes are bloodshot and burning, returns to the living room, still going unnoticed by Wonshik. He catches sight of himself in the mirror hanging on a wall and he wants to shrivel up and die.

 He walks over to Wonshik and wraps his arms around his neck from behind. Wonshik jolts in surprise and takes his headphones off before turning his head to look at Hongbin, slightly disbelieving.

 "I didn't hear you come in," he says, and Hongbin hums, shifting a little so that he's to Wonshik's right, and he can hug Wonshik a little more comfortably.

 "Of course," he mumbles, face buried in Wonshik's back, right below his right shoulder, "I'm sneaky! And you were preoccupied." He laughs a little. It takes away some of the pain. He doesn't unbury his face because then, he'll see color.

 "Huh," Wonshik says, attempting to turn a little more, but Hongbin's embrace has him locked in place, and he just smiles softly, so very fond of Hongbin.

 Hongbin wants to throw up, disgusted at himself. He feels like a liar. He feels like a traitor. He feels like a cheater. "What are you doing back there? You okay?"

 "I'm fine," Hongbin insists. He tries to sound as normal as he can. His words come out muffled, soaking into the fabric of Wonshik's faded old t-shirt that's far too big on him.

 "You're being unnaturally clingy today," Wonshik points out lightly as if he's just looking out the window and making an offhanded comment about the weather.

 Yet at the same time he sounds uncomfortable, uncertain, sad. They know each other like the back of their hands. They've seen everything there is to see, heard everything there is to hear. They've taken baths together even before taking baths with someone was considered sexual. And even after then, they still bathed together.

 They've been through breakdowns, been through blissful mornings in each other's arms, been through secrets whispered in the dead of the night at middle school sleepovers and more. They've been through those quiet moments where it just feels like it's just the two of them in the entire universe.

 Hongbin know there's no point hiding all this-

 "So?"

 -but Hongbin also knows that he needs to hide the truth. Because the truth will only hurt Wonshik, and he doesn't want Wonshik to be hurt.

 He needs to at least try.

 Wonshik sighs, obviously worried, and Hongbin feels even shittier than before. "Something's wrong,"

 Hongbin wishes Wonshik would just leave it be, wishes that Wonshik would just drop it. But Wonshik is Wonshik. Wonshik is a giant sap that can't help but be overly concerned and overly affectionate.

 "Nothing's wrong!"

 Fuck, he's crying. His tears are getting Wonshik's shirt wet. Fuck. So much for lying.

 "Kong? Shit-" Wonshik panics for a moment, peeling Hongbin's arms off of him and fully turning now, so that they're face to face, hand on Hongbin's chin so they can maintain eye contact. "Bin, what's wrong- why are you crying?" He worries his bottom lip and Hongbin considers just coming clean, just spilling it all out.

 "I," he starts, and his tears are uncontrollable now, as he stares into Wonshik's eyes. Colored! Taunting him, laughing at him, whispering into his ear reminders; reminders of that burning ache of emptiness and longing somewhere in his chest that he'd only felt just now, separated from his soulmate that he doesn't want. Reminders of the feeling of incompletion and the instinctive craving that human nature has cursed him with.

 People say that your soulmate is the love of your life, the one that's just made for you and only you, the one you were predetermined to be with.

 Hongbin finds that it's true, even in this odd situation of his. It will always be true, even in the sickest and most twisted of ways.

 Fate is like this really powerful person that likes marrying his children off to people he deems worthy, forcing them to fall in love.

 "I," he says and chokes on his words again, unable to bring himself to say anything. "I-"

 Wonshik immediately cuts him off, pressing his index finger onto Hongbin's lips.

 "No, we can talk later," Wonshik says, his voice the softest Hongbin's ever heard in a while, and he pulls Hongbin closer, pressing his head to Wonshik's chest where it just fits, an arm draped across the curve of Hongbin's back.

 "You can cry for now," he whispers, "Nobody's gonna hurt you. And if someone does, I'm gonna hurt whoever it is more than they hurt you,"

 Hongbin tilts his head up and Wonshik retaliates by quirking a corner of his lips up,and Hongbin lets out a half-snort half-sob before pushing his face against Wonshik's shirt again, as Wonshik cards fingers through his hair.

 "I love you, Wonshikkie," Hongbin whispers, voice raspy and throat hurting. At least the tears aren't coming anymore. Maybe he ran out. Wonshik pulls him closer and Hongbin's heart breaks into a million tiny pieces. "I love you so much, you know that, right?"

 Wonshik shushes him quietly, mumbling, "I love you too, Hongbinnie,"

 Hongbin's heart breaks just a little more.

 

 Later, they're both in bed, foreheads pressed together, arms on each other's waists.

 "Are you ready to tell me why you cried now?" Wonshik asks into the silence of the night. The clock overhead ticks five minutes to midnight. Hongbin looks at him.

 Their room is black and white, but the two of them aren't, and Hongbin loves it. It makes him feel like this is okay, that he is okay. It feels like before.

 "Hm," Hongbin says, "I actually don't remember."

 A lie right through his teeth. He smiles with said teeth. The smile is a lie as well.

 "My love washed it all away," Wonshik declares, and Hongbin laughs, soft and weak and sincere.

 "You sap,"

 "You love it,"

 Hongbin laughs again, a little more pained this time, a little more empty.

 "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I really do," Hongbin says, reaching a hand out to cup Wonshik's cheek, "I'm tired. Let's go to sleep."

 

 

The grocery store is busy at this time of the day. Half past seven on a Saturday night. Rush hour.

Hongbin's glad it's loud. It keeps him away from his thoughts right about now, the thoughts that have started plaguing him several years ago, back when Wonshik had laughed and Hongbin's heart had caught in his throat and his stomach had turned to something mushy. The thoughts that have only gotten worse.

At this point, Hongbin's grown used to the color. His stomach doesn't lurch quite as much anymore. His heart doesn't feel like it's being squeezed so tightly it might burst. It's like.

It's like he's gone numb, kind of. It's like- he's been punched in the face too many times, been beaten bloody so much he's lost count- and that the sensation of aching bruises (purple and green and blue, he's learned, somehow looking even uglier now that he can see color) and crimson stained fists pummeling him over and over and over again is lost on him at this point.

Of course, there's still the pain, but it's become quite neutralized, and he has no idea if he likes it, if he hates it, if it means anything.

It just... is.

Hongbin's got the cart, walking past aisles and aisles of products he isn't interested in; stuff he doesn't need, like snacks that he finds too sweet, or soap that smells far too strong, making him scrunch his nose at the sight of. Cooking ingredients since he can't, for the life of him, cook.

Wonshik keeps throwing random stuff into the basket, giggling when Hongbin looks at him in disbelief. So far he's sneaked in a bar of chocolate, a pack of gum, ice cream. His smile is wide. There's a warm flush on his cheeks. Rosy pink. He looks truly happy.

Hongbin swallows down the lump in his throat and keeps going.

He listens to Wonshik's voice- like it's the relaxing hum of background music that lulls him into relaxation. Maybe he can close his eyes and just listen and just- pretend. Pretend that it's just two of them against the world, because that's how it's always been. And that's how it always will be.

Together forever, they'd said. They didn't need soulmates, they'd said. And Hongbin swears on it- he'll never go to his supposed soulmate, never fall in love with him.

Hongbin has Wonshik.

Wonshik is all he needs.

"You're a sap," Hongbin declares when he sees the newly-added red bean buns Wonshik had just oh so stealthily slipped into the basket. Wonshik only smiles. He's the epitome of innocence.

"What, I like red bean buns," he grins, before his face kind of falls. Hongbin sees this. Hongbin's heart aches. He's about to open his mouth, say something, when Wonshik says, "I especially like one red bean bun."

Insert here: a light slap to Hongbin's butt. Hongbin pulls a horrified expression and Wonshik throws his head back when he laughs. And though the grocery store is kind of crowded and loud and busy right now, it really does feel like it's just the two of them.

Hongbin likes this.

Hongbin can forget for now, forget the blues and the reds and the yellows and the greens and the- other colors he's come to learn, really. Hongbin can stay here, with Wonshik, doesn't have to face his soulmate again.

But then he looks up, sees rows upon rows of colorful packaging and loud banners endorsing a certain product, sees the signs painted blue as they give directions around the store. And he has to look back down again.

Okay, so maybe he lied about the numb thing. So maybe he isn't as used to colors as he had thought. Maybe he never will be.

"Sanghyuk replied yet?" Wonshik asks as they walk absently through the store, taking a piece of paper out of his breast pocket. Hongbin shrugs.

"Hasn't," he says. He feels strangely empty, like a piece of him had disappeared when Sanghyuk had suddenly stopped replying. It's weird. Maybe it's because he and Sanghyuk and Wonshik have been talking for six months now, conversations lasting for hours, falling asleep well into the early hours of morning.

"Huh," Wonshik says, concerned frown in place, "I hope nothing bad happened to him. It's been a week."

Hongbin shrugs, keeps walking, hopes to avoid the subject for a reason he doesn't know.

There's a crackle when Wonshik unfolds the paper. He says, "We need milk and juice and cereal," tucks the slip of paper back into his pocket, "And uh. Snacks."

"We wouldn't have to if you didn't keep eating all our food," Hongbin says drily. Wonshik pouts. It's the one Hongbin finds cute, finds so fucking adorable.

"It's food, it's meant to be eaten!"

Hongbin only rolls his eyes and pushes the cart in the direction of the food aisle, a variety of chips and packaged bread and and boxes of biscuits greeting both of them. He studies them all carefully, unable to resist the way his eyes are naturally drawn to the color. His heart lurches and lodges in his throat.

Look away, look away, look away.

Wonshik follows suit, because of course he does. He talks over the crowd and the screech of the metal wheels against tiled floor.

Hongbin keeps his gaze down, focused on the floor, focused on his beaten gray sneakers and the white tiles and the black lines in between the tiles. Familiarity. Comfort.

Wonshik's stopped halfway past the aisle and Hongbin realizes this about five seconds into walking by himself. He looks back, comes over to where Wonshik is standing, looking at a bag of chips he's holding with his right hand.

Red, the label says. Wonshik turns it over, examines it, and Hongbin asks, "What do you have there?"

"Chips," Wonshik says plainly, sounding somewhat distracted. There's an evident "duh" in his voice.

"I see that," Hongbin says, "What's so interesting about it?"

Wonshik shrugs. "It says red," he says, mostly to himself, but to Hongbin as well. His attention is entirely focused on the bag of chips, and he stares at it almost longingly, and Hongbin swallows because Wonshik can’t see what red looks like at all. Wonshik only sees a dark shade of gray, the color’s name near the bottom of the bag in fine print. He wants to say something, but his heart has risen to a lump in his throat and it’s blocking all the words from coming out.

 “Huh,” he manages to say. He turns around, strolls over to where Wonshik is standing. Wonshik doesn’t look at him. It’s strange. Hongbin wonders if it’s karma.

 “I’ve always liked the color red,” Wonshik admits, finally putting the snack down. (It’s not the type he likes anyway, Hongbin knows.) “Mom and dad said it was fire. It was passionate and strong. That was it for me.” He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “I want to dye my hair red someday. I think it’d look good on me. Not like we’d know that, of course, yeah?”

 “Yeah,” Hongbin swallows. His tongue tastes like toxic, tastes like acid, tastes like the disgust he feels for himself with every passing moment he spends with Wonshik. "Yeah. Not like we'd know."

 The problem is that Hongbin does know.

 He knows all too well.

 He swallows, makes a turn, keeps pushing the cart forward and staring at the floor. Keeps listening to Wonshik's voice keeping him company. Keeps walking. The tiles are black and white; it's easier to pretend.

 That’s probably why he doesn’t see it coming.

 A clash— Hongbin falls back on impact, their cart colliding with another’s, with the shrill, sharp sound of metal against metal ringing across the aisles. The world keeps spinning. He’s on the floor, all of a sudden, kind of dizzy, and someone says “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

 Wonshik helps him up; Hongbin leans against him, grateful for how sturdy he is, how comforting his presence is, and God, he loves him, why can’t they be?

 “I’m really so sorry!” the one who’d bumped them says. He sounds scandalized. Hongbin looks up so he can look at whoever it is properly, even when his vision is kind of swimming right now. The stranger is frowning. Concerned, obviously. Regretful. He’s got these narrow eyes, kind of feline, and his hair’s combed neatly, bangs falling straight and hiding his forehead. He seems warm.

 “It’s fine,” Hongbin says. He steadies himself. “I wasn’t looking. It was my fault.”

 The stranger openly frowns at that. “But no, we have to make it up to you,” he says insistently, shaking his head. He turns to address a companion that Hongbin’s only _just_ noticed was standing there, stiff as a board, unmoving with his fists clenched around the cart’s handle.

 Hongbin’s soulmate.

 He wants to throw up.

 “Sanghyuk, are you alright?” the stranger asks and— oh, he’s Sanghyuk? The boy he and Wonshik have been talking to online for months now? That just makes everything so much worse. Hongbin hates this, wants the floor to swallow him up, wants to crawl into a hole and just stop existing.

 Hongbin realizes he’s been staring, entranced, mesmerized, completely helpless to begotten emotions encoded into his very being, his very soul. He tears his gaze away from Sanghyuk (Sanghyuk, Sanghyuk, Sanghyuk, God, he can’t get over that fact) to look at Wonshik instead, but Wonshik has absolutely lit up, his dark brown eyes shining with recognition and joy.

 “Sanghyuk? Like—” he’s grinning, he looks so happy, and Hongbin wishes he could feel happy, he really does. Hongbin wishes he could feel Wonshik’s excitement, but he _can’t_. Because Sanghyuk is his soulmate. Han Sanghyuk. His soulmate.

 It feels surreal. It feels like a nightmare. Hongbin would very much rather it be one.

 “Yeah, Wonshik-hyung,”

 Sanghyuk drops his gaze. Is he embarrassed? Is he guilty, just like Hongbin is? Does he feel the toxic too, here in a grocery store with his soulmate and his soulmate’s boyfriend right before him?

 Wonshik seems unfazed by the apparent lack of enthusiasm. He’s still as bright as a child on Christmas eve, and Hongbin hates to be the breath to snuff all the festive lanterns out. Stranger asks, “You know them, Hyukkie?”

 Sanghyuk says, “Yeah, hyung, I met them online,” and the stranger grins widely, turning towards them.

 “This is so cool,” stranger says, and Hongbin begs to disagree. Sanghyuk looks disturbed, he realizes, and something inside him twinges, aches to be by his side, comfort him—

 Hongbin tries to focus on the stranger. It almost works. He manages to catch his name— “Cha Hakyeon,” he’d introduced himself as, and it rings a bell in Hongbin’s mind. He knows it does in Wonshik’s as well— and manages to process that Hakyeon has invited them to have lunch with them sometime. Hongbin remembers absently agreeing. The rest of it is a haze of Sanghyuk, Sanghyuk, _Wonshik_.

 Hakyeon and Wonshik exchange numbers. Hongbin and Sanghyuk stand by, gaze flitting up to look at the other on occasion, yet never locking eyes even once.

 When Wonshik and Hongbin have to go ahead first, though, it feels as if Hongbin had left a big piece of him behind, resting in Sanghyuk’s hands. He feels empty. He feels as if he needs to return.

 He forces himself to go on.

 The next day, they meet up with Hakyeon and Sanghyuk in a little nondescript diner near the park. It's sidled next to a pretty little café, and Hongbin makes a mental note that he should bring Wonshik there someday. It would be good place for him. It seems peaceful enough; he could drink coffee and listen to music as he writes.

 Lunch isn't awkward at all.

 Wonshik and Hakyeon fill it with conversation, and sometimes Sanghyuk says something, sometimes Hongbin shares his own thoughts on the subject. Hongbin can almost forget the boy sitting across him, both of them picking at their food as they try to ignore the other is there at all.

 Of course, he doesn't forget. How could he ever forget? This boy had both completed him and shattered him into a million tiny pieces at the exact same moment.

 "You're being awkward," Hakyeon brings up all of a sudden. Hongbin doesn't tense, thank God, just chuckles and asks, "Is that so?"

 Hakyeon nods. Underneath the table, Wonshik catches ahold of Hongbin's hand and squeezes, and it should feel comforting but right now it just feels so wrong.

 "Ah," Hongbin says, "I just didn't get enough sleep last night. That's all."

 They drop it there, thankfully, but Wonshik's hand is still on his and Sanghyuk is still sitting there across the table.

 By the end of lunch, Sanghyuk and Hongbin had at least talked a little, and they'd parted ways comfortably enough. They start going on more lunches with the twosome, whenever available. Get together. Hang out. Hakyeon calls them "double dates," jokingly, but that can't be, since Hakyeon has a boyfriend and Wonshik and Hongbin are dating.

 And Hongbin and Sanghyuk are even getting closer.

 Wonshik jokes about it sometimes. "He's stealing you away from me," he would say. Hongbin's heart would twinge because it's true.

 He doesn't want it to be true.

 Sanghyuk always grimaces whenever Hakyeon's boyfriend is brought up, but the look on his face becomes less and less pained the longer they spend time together.

 What truly is pained, though, is how Sanghyuk had looked when Hakyeon had asked Hongbin if he and Wonshik were soulmates.

 They'd lied and said yes.

 Sanghyuk had excused himself to the bathroom.

 

_From: Sanghyuk_

_9:07 AM;_ _Saturday_

_hongbin hyung, are you free?_

_we need to talk…_

_meet me by this café @ noon?_

_From: Hongbin_

_10:23 AM; Saturday_

_Okay._

 

The café is nice, Hongbin has to admit. It has an antique feel to it, a warmth that makes him comfortable. He sits across Sanghyuk, nurses his Matcha Latte, watches as Sanghyuk takes a sip of his scalding Hot Chocolate before grimacing at the heat.

 It occurs to Hongbin, two months after bumping into Hakyeon and Sanghyuk in the grocery store now, that this is the first time they've really been alone. And while they're comfortable with each other now- as comfortable as they can be, anyway- that can't drown away the tension hanging over them.

 Talk, Sanghyuk had said. Well, they haven’t talked at all, just sat across each other like this with their own drinks. Hongbin drinks a little more, not knowing how to react to the terrible silence.

 He doesn’t like this at all. He fiddles with the promise ring on his right ring finger, remembers Wonshik and his own promise of ‘you won’t lose me.’ And it’s right. Wonshik won’t lose him. Hongbin loves Wonshik. A set of stupid, predetermined rules and the concept of fate isn’t going to change that.

 Right?

 Right.

 Then why is he so uncertain? Why is he holding on to this ring like his life depends on it? If he truly loves Wonshik, then he wouldn’t be doubting himself at all. Hongbin swallows, looking everywhere but at Sanghyuk. The colors are everywhere, and they just seem much more amplified when Sanghyuk’s here. More defined. He wishes they would hurt his eyes, so that he could hate them a little more. He wishes they didn’t have to be so alluring. He wishes they would all just go back to monochrome.

 “So,” Hongbin starts awkwardly, putting his latte on top of the little table between him and Sanghyuk. “Hakyeon, huh? The guy you like?” He doesn’t look Sanghyuk in the eye, afraid he’ll get lost in there, afraid he’ll lose himself.

 “It’s funny, actually,” Sanghyuk mutters. He doesn’t try to get Hongbin to look at him, and for that, Hongbin is grateful. “It’s like, what I’d felt for him… it’s all faded away.”

 Something heavy and highly disturbing settles in the pit of Hongbin’s stomach. He forced himself to chuckle, even when dread’s cold, sharp claws start sinking into Hongbin’s skin, even when the shadow of fear and uncertainty starts to envelope him bit by bit.

 “Is that so,” he mumbles. It’s terrifying here, alone with Sanghyuk. He’s scared of fate, scared of Sanghyuk, scared of himself and all the things he might do that he’ll definitely regret. He doesn’t want to think about those.

 “Yeah,” Sanghyuk says. Silence stretches on again, and Hongbin’s heartbeat only grows even more frantic as every moment passes. He’s starting to panic. This isn’t good. He breathes; he must remain calm and collected, must not let Sanghyuk get to him at all.

 Sanghyuk, with his (kind of nasally) voice, sweet and rich- and Hongbin has to mentally smack himself so as not to think all the wrong thoughts- as he asks, awkwardly, “Since when were you in Seoul anyway?”

 Since as far as Sanghyuk had known, Hongbin and Wonshik were stuck in the countryside, in a little no-name town. Hongbin bites his lower lip.

"Wonshik found an apartment," he admits. "We ran away to here a couple weeks ago."

 They'd come here to Seoul with so many dreams, so many expectations, so large a desire to meet people like them and live a life where they don't have to be judged for loving someone they "shouldn't," in their small, conservative, old-timey little town far, far away from Seoul.

 And now here they are, a week into life in the city, and Hongbin is busy hiding the fact that he's found his soulmate.

 They'd come here to be free, but now the idea of freedom feels like nothing but a faraway, unreachable dream.

"Oh," Sanghyuk says. He sounds regretful. Saddened. Hongbin represses the hysteric laugh that bubbles in his lungs. Instead, he stands and puts a wad of bills on the table.

 "I should leave," he mutters. Sanghyuk says nothing. Hongbin starts to walk away.

 "Let me take you out, hyung,"

 Hongbin stops in his tracks, turns around and stares at Sanghyuk in horror. Even Sanghyuk seems to be surprised from the words he had said, regretful hand covering his mouth, eyes wide.

 Sanghyuk lowers his hand. Gazes at the floor. Shifts his weight from one side to another.

 "Sanghyuk," Hongbin says softly. Sanghyuk says nothing.

 "I'm sorry," Sanghyuk says. His voice is small. Hongbin sees his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. Hongbin is frozen in place. He doesn't know just what the fuck he should do.

 Because his heart and his mind are battling, are clashing, are fighting so madly that Hongbin can't tell which is which, wrong from right, yes from no- and even if he did, he doesn't know what to listen to anymore, because they're both parallel. They're both screaming for the same thing, and the only difference between them is a name.

 What is his heart? And what is his mind?

 "This won't mean anything," Hongbin says, swallowing thickly. Sanghyuk looks shocked, looks like he'd expected Hongbin to say no and storm out, expected Hongbin to punch him in the face. Looks like he'd almost wanted Hongbin to say no. Vehemently refuse.

 But Hongbin is weak and tired, and his mind that screams Wonshik is suddenly so foggy and so blurred over that he nearly can't remember the way his heart thumps loudly and squeezes in fondness and pain whenever he's with Wonshik anymore. Because Hongbin is overridden with the feeling of feeling complete, Hongbin is overridden by the way the colors glitter and shine, make Sanghyuk glow.

 "Okay," Sanghyuk says.

 Hongbin texts Wonshik, tells him that he bumped into Sanghyuk. That he might be home late. It's not even five seconds later that Wonshik replies.

  _From: Wonshik_

_Sunday, 1:04 PM_

_Be safe <3_

 Hongbin wants to cry.

 Oh, Wonshik. Sweet, trusting Wonshik. Wonshik who looks at him like he's the sun and the moon and the stars. Wonshik who loves him. Wonshik, Wonshik, Wonshik.

 He jams the phone into his pocket, trying his best not to break down right then and there. Hongbin has half a mind to just up and leave, and Sanghyuk's eyes are sad but they're hopeful as well. That's the bond between them, the zing between them, showing. And Hongbin, try as he might, cannot bring himself to back out.

 He lets Sanghyuk lead the way.

 He loses himself.

 

 They get ice cream.

 They go to the park, and Sanghyuk asks him about photography. (Hongbin takes photographs in grayscale. Wonshik won't be able to tell the difference.)They go to the fair, ride rides that make Hongbin's stomach twist unpleasantly. They have fun.

 Hongbin has fun.

 It's fun. They're. Friends. They're friends hanging out. They're friends being friends.

 Hongbin is a traitor.

 Wonshik is at home. He's waiting patiently for Hongbin to come back. And here, Hongbin is. Back in the park with Sanghyuk, sitting on a wooden bench that isn't comfortable at all; the sun gone down and the starry night above them.

 The sky is actually a dark, dark blue, Hongbin realizes. Not black like he'd first thought it was. But it's dark enough to pretend.

 Maybe he can pretend that everything is in monochrome when he's with Sanghyuk.

 But the moonlight is shining him just so, painting him and making him glow and Hongbin finds himself mesmerized even when he's really, really, really trying his best not to be.

 There's a strange spark between them, all of a sudden. It's faint; but a distant buzz humming at the back of his mind. Every passing moment, it grows stronger.

 "Hongbin-hyung," Sanghyuk says, "Hyung, you hear it too, right?"

 It fills the air between them; like they're locked up in a glass dome and it just rings inside it. Rings and rings and rings.

 And suddenly color isn't so bad-

 No. Wonshik is-

 Wonshik-

 "It won't stop!" Sanghyuk cries out, almost desperate. He's pulling his hair in unbridled frustration, and he looks at Hongbin brokenly, as if Hongbin is the only one keeping him sane. Hongbin can see the little tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Hongbin suddenly feels his heart breaking. His soulmate is in pain. His soulmate. Hongbin should-

 No. He tries to ground himself. No.

 But the ringing is only getting stronger; the electric hum, the zing. It's overwhelming, and Hongbin can only describe it as- something of a magnetic charge, pulling them closer and closer and closer.

 A moth to a flame.

 Wonshik, his mind screams.

 Icarus to the sun.

 Wonshik!

 Their lips touch, and it's like a dam has been broken down, and Hongbin can't get enough. Hand on the back of Sanghyuk's neck. Pulling him closer.

 Who is Wonshik?

 Sanghyuk's lips feel so soft. So fucking soft. They're sweet on his tongue, and Hongbin's mind buzzes pleasantly, melting into a small puddle of bliss and contentment. Hongbin distantly wonders who this Wonshik is, this Wonshik floating about in his head. Nagging. Annoying. Frustrating. And why won't Wonshik stop? Hongbin's kissing his soulmate- _his soulmate_!- and he'd feel so much better if the name didn't make him feel guilty for some unknown reason. Sanghyuk, his soulmate- _soulmate_!- is a damn good kisser, okay, and it would be very much appreciated if his mind wasn't so full of Wonshik, Wonshik, _Kim Wonshik_ -

 

 Hongbin wipes savagely at his lips, stares at himself in his and Wonshik's bathroom mirror. He's sweating profusely, choking up bile and acid, dry heaving into the toilet and sobbing.

 He splashes water on his face, brushes his teeth again and again and again, because maybe he can scrub off the taste of Sanghyuk still sitting sweetly on his tongue.

 Because now that he's had a taste of it, he's craving so much more. He craves Sanghyuk's light fingertips, his sturdy warmth, his security.

 Hongbin throws up just a little bit more, his throat burning with stomach acid. He takes a glass of water that he'd previously put on top of the cabinet, gulps it down puts it back, too tired to put it in the sink; washes his hands, leaves the bathroom, stumbles into bed with Wonshik.

 Wonshik is sleeping. Quiet. Peaceful. Where are the butterflies and the thumping of Hongbin's heart?

 Hongbin curls up, entangles their legs. Wonshik stirs and pulls him closer, arm wrapping around Hongbin's waist.

 "You're home," he mumbles. Groggy. It's cute. Hongbin should find it disgustingly adorable. Why isn't he reacting like he should?

 When Hongbin doesn't respond, Wonshik stills completely. But then the hand leaves Hongbin's waist to brush bangs away from his face. "You alright?"

 Hongbin hums and burrows his face in Wonshik's chest. He feels nothing like Sanghyuk. Hongbin feels sick all over again.

 "Kong?" Wonshik asks softly, fully awake from his worries now, and he tilts Hongbin's face up so that their eyes could meet and fuck, Hongbin isn't ready for this.

 "I'm fine," Hongbin says, "Just cold." and Wonshik nods and holds him tight.

 "Warm now?"

 Still so cold, Hongbin thinks, but he just smiles and nods, "Yeah."

 He closes his eyes and feels exhaustion wash over him, take him in its sweet embrace.

 "Kong-ah?"

 "Hm?"

 "I love you,"

 Hongbin swallows, heart heavy.

 "I love you too, Shikkie,"

**Author's Note:**

> ahahahahahhh.... hah....
> 
> i'm sorry  
> you can yell at me now.
> 
> i hope you liked it sdfg,, give feedback pls?
> 
> anywaaaays. love you all, nyx out- *runs and hydes*


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